The Romantic Escapades of Matt Miller
by SteveElOtaku
Summary: A brief summary of Matt's love life, from the cyber god's mouth.


The Romantic Escapades of Matt Miller, Cyber God

If you had told me, eight years ago, that one day I'd have been a crime lord, ruled part of a city, become a secret agent, fought aliens, and then shagged the bloody _President of the United States of America_, I'd have thought you were completely mental. Hell, at 13 I had a hard time believing I'd ever lose my virginity at all given the way girls stared at me. You'd think having the best hacking skills on earth would count for something but noooo, somehow shoving yourself into a bunch of guys to grab one ball is waaaayyy more impressive. And they thought I was gay, I mean, I'm sorry, who's the bigger nancy-boy, this exquisite cybergoth in purple lipstick and a sweet leather jacket, or the guy shoving his face into another guy's bollocks? But I digress.

When I started the Deckers back at the tender age of 16, I knew the FBI was going to come down hard on us. Thing is though, only one person could even compete with us. And that's when I met my second love of my life, Kinzie Kensington.

What's that? I didn't mention my first girlfriend?

Oh right. Her. Look, she wasn't bad, but…she was kinda putting up with me only for the perks and that, and it was going to the knackers by that point anyway. I want to say her name was Molly, but even that I'm not sure of anymore. I think she might have been a contestant on _I Want to Sleep with Shaundi, _but that's kind of beyond the point. Wait, never mind that, that is why we broke up. She was tired of me. But anyway…

Kinzie…what a woman.

Okay, sue me! If you were a hacker and you happened to find a cute-looking hacker with seriously kinky tastes, wouldn't YOU try to make a move? I mean, come on!

I was 16…and really awkward with girls. And it just so happened that this one was trying to ruin my fun. So, naturally, I framed her up as a traitor and exposed her kinky side to her bosses. She was never taken seriously again, especially not when I tossed the conspiracy theorist stuff in there.

(Who'd have thought she was right about the aliens?)

I thought I was unstoppable. I mean, I was hired by the Syndicate! Sure, it was because Philippe Loren couldn't use his phone properly, but hell, it was a job! And plus, I got funding to turn my little army of Goth kids into a bunch of street samurai! The only downside…Killbane. How I HATED that man. I was also scared shitless of him. Being around him was like being in school again. I made a gang because I was sick of being on the bottom of the heap. So you can imagine how thrilled I was to be taking orders from a steroid-abusing jock. I liked working for Loren. He was polite, refined, and easy to work with. And the DeWynter sisters, too. They were a good pair.

Hey! Don't look at me like that!

No, I didn't ask them on a date! There's no way in hell I could have swung that.

Yes, I did download naked pictures of them! Yes, I did put cameras in their bathrooms! I mean, come on, I'm a pervert, not suicidal! And they should have been in charge. Unlike Killbane.

My one regret before the Earth got blown to pieces by Zinyak was not repaying that atrociously dressed, washed-up sports entertainer for that chair to the face.

On the other hand, the "walking apocalypse" got killed BY the apocalypse, so I figure that all works out nicely and ironically. Plus, I beat him up in VR, so that works out too.

Wow, I'm really off track.

Anyway. Kinzie. Turns out, she was a little bit ticked about all this, and it just so happens at the very same moment, the Third Street Saints refused Loren's offer to join the Syndicate, and ended up parachuting into Steelport. I stole every cent they had, but did that deter them? No. Not one bit.

And then they found the three people the Syndicate pissed off: some pimp named Zimos, Killbane's old tag team partner Angel de la Muerte, and finally, Kinzie.

I'll be honest…I really did want Kinzie badly. But I never knew how to talk to her. And then, well…another girl walked into my life.

She didn't have a name, though most called her Boss, and that's probably the most fitting name for her, though I would come to know her as "Ms. President." She had black hair, black lipstick, and a torn rocker outfit on when I first laid eyes on her. And I felt something half like true love and half like the feeling you get from a large dog about to rip your bollocks off.

At first, I must admit, I wasn't sure what to make of her. I prioritized her as a serious threat, but no one would listen to me. Perhaps they were right, I thought, perhaps I was just crushing on her and trying to get an excuse to get involved. And then I learned she'd killed Loren pretty much all by herself. Dropped that giant metal globe on him. I warned him about keeping such a heavy object so high, but he reassured me it was properly restrained. I mean, come on, it's not like we were keeping a pissed-off Russian super soldier around—OH WAIT, NEVER MIND.

But I digress.

The Boss was certainly my type from the very start—bold, confident, great tracts of land (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), but possessed a cunning mind, even if it largely thought only about strippers and making things go boom.

Naturally, I sought to have her eliminated. Lacking the combat skills to do so, I preferred to rely on cyberspace for my skirmishes with her.

And somehow I lost even there. Yes, I'm still a bit sore about it.

Anyway, the Boss was all for shooting me 'til I offered to get the hell out of Steelport and cut her a deal on some hardware. Faced with defeat, I made up a cover story about going neo-Luddite (which Jane Valderama bought hook, line, and sinker) and then slipped off quietly to England.

I half expected being arrested when I got back there. I was, in fact, but as it turns out, it was just MI6's unique way of asking me to work for them. Ordinarily, I'd NEVER touch a job with the government. I'm something of a digital anarchist, but, well…if I may borrow a My Chemical Romance song title, "You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison." Faced with either jail time, deportation, or working with the government to bring down terrorists and the like, I picked door number three. To my surprise, working for MI6 wasn't bad at all. I got to do all the fun stuff I used to do, just about, except this time I got to do it against the bad guys and rival governments. A couple of years in, however, I was assigned as a handler for one of their top agents.

I have to admit, I got quite excited by the prospect of working with the very best.

Well, wasn't I in for a surprise!

At first she protested. And I can't actually blame her. Asha Odekar, the most serious and deadly MI6 agent around paired up with a wanted criminal. Despite my dashingly handsome looks, she resisted the idea of working with me until her commanders pointed out she had no choice in the matter.

I recall her beating the tar out of me the day we met, and it was at that moment our partnership began.

It was not until a particularly dangerous mission together that we started to become friends. We were surrounded. About fifty of London's most dangerous gangsters had guns pointed at us. The boss walks up to us, all Cockney-accented, slurring every word drunkenly and dropping h's like hot potatoes. Then he points to me.

"'ey you, ya bloody nancy-boy wanker, wot do ya want for a last request?"

I smiled faintly, nervously.

"I want a laptop. I need to finish the last chapter of my _Nyte Blayde _fanfiction. Can't disappoint my fans, they've been waiting for the conclusion for months!"

He agreed, and produced a laptop.

I opened up Notepad, finished the chapter, and wrote in also a small program that would cripple every computer and electronic system in the building.

Needless to say, the place went dark. There was a lot of blind gunfire and sounds of bodies hitting the floor. When the power was restored, Asha was wiping the sweat from her forehead, the entire gang lying on the floor unconscious. One tried getting up but I kicked him in the face.

She turned to me, gave me a bone-crushing hug, and smirked.

"That was unbelievably clever, Agent Miller. But really, fanfiction?"

I smirked back.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, Agent Odekar."

After that, we got along considerably better. She finally saw I wasn't going to be a burden, or a threat, and so that made her infinitely more receptive to being partners.

I even got her to watch _Nyte Blayde _a few times. It took some blackmail a couple of times, but hey, it was a start. Besides, she owed me for making me watch _Quantum of Solace._

"You're like James Bond if he lived in his parents' basement and spent all his free time reading Asimov and Shelley."

That was her summary of yours truly, and probably the most flattering thing she ever said, next to calling me cute once.

Did we ever get romantic? Eh…well, once or twice. I have only vague, fuzzy memories of a drunken night together after a long, stressful day. But I insist we only hugged. I agreed to coffee, drunkenly, I remember, and then…

Oh bloody hell; was she using the American euphemism?

She had better not have filmed it if she was…

In any case, that bring me to my final love.

Miss President. The Boss.

I remember after the Earth went boom, both of us were a little bit upset. Quite upset, really.

So Miss President saunters up to me and tells me that I don't have to die a virgin.

My mind swam for a millisecond before agreeing on one condition.

"Can you call me Nyte Blayde?"

Her incredulous reaction should have been framed for posterity.

Still, it was worth every damn second!


End file.
